You Gave Me A Promise
by captaindestroya
Summary: When she had first escaped from the gallery, she didn't escape for good. It lived with her, embedded in her mind. She felt like the obscurity amongst the crowed, like she didn't belong. Her existence was based on trying to forget, to try and fit back in with a society she didn't want to be in. It had been a hellish nightmare before, the gallery, yet now she only wished to return.
1. Chapter 1

Her hair was tousled in the autumn wind as she padded along the pavement, the weeping willow trees that lined the park's perimeter hovered just above her. Pale digits reached out to skim the drooping strands of leaves that dripped with the morning rain. Her crimson eyes scanned over the landscape, lacking of human presence, much to her liking. Evergreen trees hid the cobblestone passageways, benches and ponds scattered amongst the well tamed grass. She passed several donated sculptures of marble and stone, also the stairs to the rose garden where she spent most days after school sketching.

She looked over her shoulder, digging in her schoolbag as she clambered up the steps constructed of taupe sandstone, sparkling in the dreary afternoon sun which emerged between gray clouds.

She passed through the marble archway; she made sure to close the iron gates behind her. The garden was abandoned, the overgrowth of vines at the base of the stairs warding others away. Of course, delinquents had made their mark on her sanctuary, all the way from damaging the stone structure to graffiti.

She found it heartbreaking, to see such a beautiful place plagued by a dark society.

She placed herself on the stone ledge that connected with the archway, circling around the perimeter. With her back on the arch, she removed a pencil from her bag, propping her feet on the black faux leather. One hand flipped through the pages while the other fumbled with her white thigh high socks. She grimaced at her uniform, black vest sewn with a patch of the school crest and a plaid skirt, finished off with thigh highs that ended just below her knee and brown loafers.

As she blankly flipped through the parchment in search of a blank piece, she couldn't help but stop on the drawing of Him.

She had put exceeding amounts of effort into the work of art, down to every stitch of his frayed coat and to every strand of his silvery lavender hair. Blue and indigo rose petals danced around him as his eyelashes brushed against his pale skin, head embellished with a crown of thorns. His delicately drawn form was bordered by an intricate frame, flowers growing on that as well, blue liquid dripping from the portrait.

Ever since the aftermath of the incident, her parents had been concerned about their daughter's strange affiliation with the man. They figured that he was simply an imaginary friend, and that it would pass with maturity and time. Even though she was nine, they let it pass, as she had little to no friends.

However, time and age had not broken her bond with the man. Her wall, on top of the cherry red paint, was littered with drawings and paintings of him and other scenes from the gallery. She had vowed never to forget him or anyone that day. Perhaps when she was older and braver than she had been before, she would go after him.

The night before, whenever the contents of her sketchbook had been spilled, her mother had been pushed to the edge. She had raced up to her bedroom, tearing her daughter's drawings off of the walls, screaming at the tops of her lungs about how he wasn't real and that she needed to move on. She was 16, it was the time to move on and find some 'real' friends. It had been a first but she had fought back, saying that he was the only real friend she ever had. She had told her parents that her "gallery story" was real, about how she wanted to return.

Her mother and father had fought the entire night, about seeking out a therapist, a psychiatrist of some sorts.

She had fell asleep in the midst of the battlefield, tears trickling down her face in imperfect lines as she dreamt about nothing but Him; her biggest want in the world was always him.

She slammed the sketchbook shut, shoving it back into her backpack.

Her time of want was over.

Her time of having to spend her life in the shadows and being tormented for her silence and obscurity from classmates was going to be over.

She rose to her feet, looking up from the hill from where she stood. There was where the gallery still stood, abandoned and condemned. It was after the day the Guertana exhibit had ended did the gallery close for reasons unknown.

Maybe it was better not to know.

She clambered up the hill in an emotional daze, mass amounts of déjà vu plaguing her mind. Everything from the grass to the houses was giving her a sense of nausea. She continued the walk up the road where no one drove until the gallery came into view just over the horizon. She smiled, laughing with tears in her eyes as she sprinted towards the building. Her feet slammed on the pavement, reaching the parking lot of the gallery.

She tore the police tape binding the door without a second thought, nor giving the condemned poster a second glance either.

She dropped her bag onto the marble doorstep, not caring where it landed. Chances are she wouldn't be returning for it.

The door, however, was bounded with a large metal padlock. She knew there was no way she could break it, and she had nothing the break or pick it. Looking around her, heart pounding against her ribcage in panic, she managed to spot a broken window to where she could climb through. Stepping off the marble platform, she scrambled over to where the pane of glass was, placing her hands on the sill and heaving her body inside.

The fabric of her tights ripped, the shards of glass tearing away at the cloth. She winced as she fell to the floor, the marble covered with bits and pieces of broken glass. Rising to her feet, grimacing as her hand had been cut, she stumbled her way through the darkness. With her arm extended in front of her, she followed the wall, a strange presence in her mind telling her which way to go.

Her fingers found a plastic substance, a light switch. Flicking it upwards without hesitation, the art gallery sparked into life. The paintings were faded and frayed with lack of care, cracks running through the wall like veins. The marble floor, an array of ivory with streaks of gray and ebony, were covered with a thick layer of dust.

Crimson orbs scanned the scene, the same wooden reception desk, a pile of informational pamphlets stacked on top. The Guertana exhibit poster, hosting a piece of the Abyss of The Deep painting, was hanging by one pin.

"_You're back, Ib! You're finally back!"_

She remembered the strange voices, greeting them with open arms. It had been a hellish nightmare before, the gallery, yet now she only wished to return.

When she had first escaped from the gallery, she didn't necessarily escape for good. It lived with her, embedded in her mind. She felt like the obscurity amongst the crowed, like she didn't belong. Her existence was based on trying to forget, to try and fit back in with a society she didn't want to be in, to live in a reality that she found to be too cruel.

The gallery was none the less frightening, not necessarily good nor safe. Enemies lurked at her every turn; every door a new threat opposed her.

It was better than living life in the shadows, to have to be exposed to a world of fantastic proportions to be told you were telling a lie.

To have to lose your one and only friend to a hellish reality…

She then made it a must to find him; that she would not rest until she could see him, even if it would only be for one more time.

"_Come, Ib. Let's play, like old times!"_

She found herself standing in front of the Abyss of The Deep painting, cerulean footsteps tracing into it.

She felt for her phone in her pocket, a small one that her parents had given her in case of emergencies. Unlocking it, she began to compose a new text to her mother.

_Mom, I love you._

_But I'm going _

_Don't try to follow me._

_Don't try to find me._

_You won't._

_I need answers._

_There is someone I need to see._

_I don't know if this is a mistake…_

_If it is, I still can't promise I'll be back._

_Take care, both you and Dad._

She threw the device to somewhere inevitable in the room, approaching the painting with slow steps.

"You want to play? Sure… let's play."

She walked into the painting, where floor should've been, water was in its place. Her body was succumbed into the liquid, slowly floating into the dark abyss.

She was slowly approaching the place she wished she would never see again; it was hell in her mind.

Ib couldn't help but welcome it with open arms.


	2. Chapter 2

With a leg extended, she felt the ground beneath her. The water let her descend onto it carefully, the soles of her shoes pressing down into the stone. Ib carefully walked along the passageway which led her to a cascading cerulean stairwell. With her eyelids closed, a trance seemed to lead her down the steps.

The airy feeling of the liquid that she was once immersed in faded away as she entered the main corridor, the corridor into the room was vaguely how she remembered it, yet the walls that were once a vibrant blue were now cracked and looked as if they had just barely survived a fire. Splotches and streaks of black adorned the walls, the floor covered in ash.

Ib wiped the debris off of her clothes, which had now transformed into her old attire the first time she discovered the true gallery. Her black vest had disappeared, the long-sleeve white button up left in its place. The gray tie was replaced by a crimson necktie with layers of ruffles, her skirt now the same crimson with pleats. The loafers she despised were replaced by the old red ones with the single strap she once loved but had long since outgrown. Her confusion subsided whenever large, bold letters appeared at her feet.

In sky blue lettering, the words TRAITOR and LIAR were painted on every surface they could touch. Ib's throat went dry, eyes widened and cold sweat trickling down her forehead in fear. She forgot just how terrifying the gallery could be, though she had an idea of what she would be opposing once she stepped into the Abyss of The Deep. She strode down the hall, head high and eyes burning with determination. With spending all of her time daydreaming about her first experience, Ib navigated her way around the gallery with ease. Sitting on the remains of a collapsed mahogany desk sat a vase, vacancy occupied by a rose in full bloom.

The door behind the rubble was lacking a handle, a gaping hole in its place. Ib pushed the door aside which fell to the door with a clatter, coming off of its brass hinges. The painting of the woman with a sinister smile and hair that seeped beyond the frame in silver strands was now torn and frayed, eyes overwhelmed with white and lacking pupils. Her mouth was now closed, slightly agape with fear. The sight was bloodcurdling; the sight of it sent chills up her spine as she averted her gaze from it.

THIEF had been added to the words on the walls as she exited the room, fleeing to the other side of the corridor, passing the now closed opening to where the old gallery stood. She traced the tips of her fingers against the wall, still wondering if she was mentally prepared to face her demons again. Opening the door to the next room, the evergreen wallpaper peeling off the walls, the sight made her stomach drop.

The paintings of various insects were now squished and bloody, the glass of the frame shattered into a million pieces. The wooden planks of the floor jutted out in awkward angles. Grabbing one of the paintings from the floor, Ib continued into the room on the far right, where a gaping hole separated her from the next room where she remembered a key existed in. She placed the artwork over the last, a highly detailed drawing that had been an ant before ripped by the force of moving statue. Quickly leaping over it in fear of the canvas ripping, she raced into the next room, grabbing the now rusted key. As she crossed over her makeshift bridge to the main side, the painting was knocked out of the way. Two ebony ceramic hands appeared over the edge, giving Ib the signal to quickly escape.

The hall which harbored the clawing hands that would be released at the sense of movement now hung aimlessly out of the wall, fingers broken and contorted into horrific angles. 'What happened here...' Ib thought to herself as she exited into the next room. She could vaguely remember the room's quantities, the horrifying Liar's room and the mouth that hid razor sharp teeth.

Looking over to the said mouth, she grimaced as stitches hung from the corners of its lips, as if they were just recently torn apart. Slowly making her way towards it, she found it to be completely harmless. At its side, a small yet unsettling doll was sat up straight with a wooden apple placed in its lap. The doll was all too familiar and she shuddered at the sight of it, vague yet vivid memories of the toy plaguing her thoughts.

No, she had to stay focused. She whispered a thank you to the doll under her breath as she touched the wooden apple to it's chapped lips. The mouth slowly began to speak words she could not decipher, it's lips parting and showing a row of sharpened teeth as it lazily digested the apple. The mouth hung loosely open as she passed through it into the next area. Though she was flying through the gallery with ease, she knew the enemies ahead were just about to oppose her. She made her way through the hall with the guillotine, now covered in am array of blood, thorns, and thick vines.

Entering the next room, occupying the first encounter with the Lady In Red, she quickly maneuvered her way around it, snatching the key from behind her and unlocking the door. The next room had been her first glimpse of Garry, sunk to the floor in pain. With her heart pounding against her ribcage, she flew at an inhuman speed to the hall, throwing open to tarnished door. Her stomach dropped, as well as her hopeful smile. Tears welled up in her eyes, fists clenched as her fingernails dug into her palms, drawing beads of crimson blood.

She blinked away the tears blurring her vision as she heard a high pitched chuckle behind her. Whipping around, she saw the same doll against the wall, small violet text above it.

'I know where Garry is!'

She shook her head, walking away from the doll as she would not fall so easily into its trickery. The giggles grew louder as the toy transported with her moving form, a new text provided with each shift. '

I thought you wanted to see Garry?'

'Isn't that why you came?'

'We can all play together, like we used too!'

Ib, now red with anger and confusion, lashed out on the small doll. Picking it up by it's loosely sewn on arm, she flung it across the room, hitting the wall. The wood suddenly disintegrated, crumbling behind it. A long passage could be soon through the gaping hole, just large enough for her to pass through. A new text appeared by the doll.

'Told you so!'

She slowly padded her way over to the newly formed corridor, making her way inside. Windows lined across the side of the hallway, giving her an overview of the other rooms and enemies that lurked behind every door. She remembered shadows passing by the windows, slamming their hands on the glass. Perhaps those were the same windows she now glanced through? As the hall came to an end, a new hope bubbled up inside of her. Looking down, she saw the doll leaned against the violet door that had just appeared, it's message just above it.

'Go on! He's in there...I promise!'

She wondered if she should turn back now, though the possibilities of her long lost friend behind that very door turned her away from the decision. Placing her hand on the ebony doorknob, elegantly detailed with strokes of indigo, she opened the door. The room was an array of indigos and tones of violet, much more well kept than the other small rooms.

Cerulean rose petals were scattered amongst the floor, vines hanging from the ceiling above. In the center of the room was a man with lavender hair with twists of eggplant purple and a frayed coat that she remembered all too well. He had dropped to his knees, hand outstretched to touch the frame that hung on the wall. The man, his age appearing as 17 or 18, looked back to Ib, cerulean eyes meeting crimson ones for the first time in seven years. Her voice, cracked with an array of emotions, broke the eerie silence.

"Garry?"


	3. Chapter 3

Pools of sparkling crimson flickered with an array of emotions, sparkling with tears. Frozen to the petal ridden floor beneath her, Ib slowly reached her hand outwards.

"Garry? You...You're still..."

The man whom she had longed for all these years was now in front her, lacking any change from what she last remembered. His coat was still that unique shade of navy blue, tattered at the ends with rips and tears purposely made. His hair was still the unforgettable concoction of lavender and eggplant purple. The man was as if he was an original piece of artwork, his entire aura giving off the sense of originality. Perhaps that was what had drawn Ib to him, made her want to learn more about him than what she was given. Or maybe it was because they were in a battle for their lives, and being the only too humans in the maze of endless horror, they didn't have much choice but to earn each others trust.

Garry, his complexion looking pale and sickly, looked up to the girl in confusion.

His face said everything.

As his hands slowly removed themselves from the large, golden frame that consumed the wall. Placing his palms onto the floor, he rose to his feet eerily slow, wiping non-existent dirt onto his pants. Turning his lanky form around to face her, he finally broke what was becoming an awkward atmosphere, filled with confusion and a hint of disappointment.

As his lips parted, making way for words, Ib braced herself, ready for the grenade to go off.

"W-Who are you? How did you get in here?"

His chest started to rise and fall quicker, heart beat picking up speed. Garry was becoming ecstatic, anxious, and terrified all in a single sentence.

"W-Was it him? It was him wasn't it?!" He pointed to the small doll at Ib's feet, as it had unknowingly followed her inside.

"No one is supposed to be in here, I-I told him that!"

Large feet carried him across the room, face red with rage and fear for the unknown. His foot came into contact with the disturbing toy, knocking it against the violet walls.

"BASTARD! YOU NEVER LISTEN, DO YOU!"

"G-Garry! Garry stop!

"ITS NOT SAFE IN HERE! IT NEVER IS WITH ME! WHY CAN YOU NEVER UNDERSTAND THAT, DAMMIT!?"

"GARRY STOP IT!"

The scene had grown dark in a matter of ticks of the clock. The doll was now in pieces of sapphire fabric and cotton. Garry, a man of manners and reasoning, even shy perhaps, was now appearing to be a monster.

Ib's arms, small and delicate under the white dress shirt were wrapped around this monster's waist, however. He had shocked her yes, but no where near scaring her away.

She knew him too well for that to happen.

His gasps of oxygen now simmered down to a normal rate, his flushed face returning to his original complexion. His arms hung loosely by his sides, not sure whether to embrace the girl or not. Stains of water appeared on his shirt in small, irregular circles. Tears.

"Stop. Just stop it. Garry, please."

Ib looked up, crystalline tears racing down her cheeks.

"You don't remember, do you?"

His head shook, her stomach dropping at the swift and unpleasant action.

"I-I was here, in the gallery, seven years ago. We met up, tried to get out, remember?"

He shook his head again.

"Remember the roses? The dolls?" She cleared her throat. "Mary?"

He was starting to look at her with eyes that spoke "Are you crazy?", a glare she was used to by now. Garry had been in the gallery for nearly seven years, his mind endlessly plagued by the world of Guertana. Of course he wouldn't remember.

"Listen, there...there was a lot of things that happened that you don't remember, and perhaps will never remember. H-However, I think that, for both of us, we should leave-"

His eyes widened, blood racing to his face again, she knew what was coming.

"N-No! No I can't do that! He'll...They'll..."

"Garry, I know you don't think it's safe to be around you, but please understand that I know that isn't true! Garry this place is making you crazy!"

"You know nothing about me! I don't even know who you are! H-He sent you here, didn't He?"

"Who, Garry? Who are you so afraid of?!" Tears were now hitting the floor, on both of their parts.

He cleared his throat, but giving no answer to her question, answering it with only another.

"W-Who do you think I am..."

"I think your someone who was trapped here, someone who needs to escape this place."

"B-But..."

"Garry you don't belong here, I-I thought I did at first too, but...that isn't the case anymore."

"You...You know how to get out of here?"

"Yes, and you'll be fine. Please, just," she outstretched a single, dainty hand, speaking words that had fooled her and tormented her for years. Her life.

"Trust me."

He closed his eyes, looking back to the eccentric golden frame in the wall, to the petals on the floor, and then back to her.

"I don't know you...and I'm not sure if I'm ready to trust you..."

Her arm slowly descended, pupils fixed onto the floor.

"But I'm sure as hell ready to get out here." Garry said, flashing the smile that made her do the same, to instantly trust him.

She smiled softy, their fingers lacing together as they began to exit the room. Ib remembered the last time they had done this, holding hands as he kept her out of harms way. At that time, being petite for her age, her hand was just large enough to hold onto his thumb. She noticed how his hands seemed colder with a nearly non existent pulse. God, what had they done to him.

As they neared the indigo threshold, the paint chipping off of the wood, a new doll had appeared, dressed in emerald fabric, the same crimson eyes.

Garry clenched his fists, taking a step backwards, before Ib placed a small hand in front of him in the gentlest motion.

"It isn't worth it. Another one will just take its place."

"I..." He was lost, never did he remember that he had shown one of those dolls mercy before.

"I suppose so." Garry said, nodding. His fingers fell loose, his foot nudging it to the side.

Ib noticed a small piece of paper in its arms.

"TRAITOR".

She grimaced, not sure who the letter was assigned to.

"What does it say?" Garry said, head cocked to the side, brow raised. Ib flinched, hurriedly crumpling the parchment and stuffing it into the pocket of her skirt, setting the doll back into the room carefully before shutting the door for good.

The floor began to rumble beneath them, making the two stumble. As it got louder, Ib had an idea of what was emerging, and quickly acted upon instinct.

"W-Watch out!"

She pushed Garry out of the way, both of them falling to the ash covered floor as ceramic vines busted through the wooden panel floor, blocking the door.

With no source, the two could hear 'TRAITOR' being howled in their ears.

Garry was beginning to panic again, wondering if it was right to trust the strange, young woman. He felt an essence of protection and confection radiate off her, like she was a life long friend. She said she had known him before, the two being close, but he had been locked in that room for as long as he could remember.

"Come on, I think we've been here long enough."

His train of thought was broken as she pulled them both to their feet, their hands intertwined as they raced down the hallway that was now disintegrating into black ash, the screeching getting louder with every footstep.

She was wrong, so very wrong. What had she been thinking, to imagine herself living in the gallery. It was a stupid, idiotic thought. Fighting the battles in reality were hard, yes, though in the gallery, it was war. She had a new task, none the less. She had to Garry out of there, alive.

The roles were now switched, it was now her duty to protect him.


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of soles clicking against the gallery floors was one of the few things Ib excluded from her thoughts. Her mind was set and fixed on things such as which path to take and how to solve puzzles she remembered vividly. However, as concentrated as she was, she couldn't help but feel the unfortunate fact burning in her mind, the fact that Garry had forgotten. Perhaps she was hoping for something unrealistic, that her second arrival would be a vast and smooth journey, that he would greet her in open arms, exclaiming of his sorrow while she was gone and how joyful he happened to be when she returned for him.

It was a stupid, childish hope.

The two, however, still embarked on their journey through the maze of unpredictable danger. It was still the atmosphere, hardwood floors of all colors covered in ash and walls crumbling with streaks of soot. It was as if the entire place had been an amateur arsonist's attempted crime. While Ib took in each scene in remembrance, the world of Guertana was new in Garry's eyes. Behind each door was a new possibility, every turn could hold a threat. It was both an anxious adventure, yet pumped adrenaline through his veins.

Ib's free hand reached into her pocket, seeking the stem of her rose, the other hand occupied by the man's. She couldn't say he was older, anymore, for he hadn't aged a day by looks or in personality. As she felt the cool, inviting touch of the live plant's stem, she just happened to remember that she was originally not the only one with the strange flower.

"Garry?"

"Hm?" The man said as Ib stopped her movements, just as they approached a crimson door.

An ebony statue had fallen just in front of the entrance, the surface cracked as dried red paint ran down the side in lines, arms and legs completely shattered. A purple necktie was what had separated it from the others, which were adorned in dresses of red, yellow,and blue.

Goosebumps raced up the girl's skin, but she averted her thoughts from the contorted marble statue.

"Do you have a rose, like this one?" Ib said, pulling out her own for the man to examine.

Mary had stolen his rose, removing the sapphire petals in a game of 'Loves Me, Loves Me Not". It had been reduced to a stem, useless, but it had possibly been replaced. It was still worth asking, however.

"I...I don't think so. There were petals like those in that room but that's all I can think of."

He said with slight sadness, a feeling of letting the girl down.

"Am I supposed to have one?"

"I...I guess not. Just make sure to be careful, ok?"

He nodded without a word as I placed the flower back in its original place and continued on, stepping over the shards of marble and over the red threshold, the man on her heels as he followed.

The room before them froze the duo to the floor, unable to move, unable to breathe.

The walls were a drab, cement gray, the floor just barely a shade darker. Two paintings that Ib remembered were meant to be 'blessed' now had met with a treacherous fate. The bride, like most of the gallery had been burnt to a darkened crisp, the golden bracket underneath the canvas reading "Doomed Bride." The groom, gun at his head and mouth agape in a silenced scream had changed to the original title "Grieving Groom". Beyond the lost and troubled lovers was a vast amount of bloodshot eyes, perched on the floor that was bloodied around them. The painting that hungered flowers that had initially been an exit into the next challenge had fallen to the ground, yet a vast hole still remained on the wall.

Ib and Garry slowly stepped away from the room, as the words 'WHY' and 'IM SORRY' suddenly were printed on the cement colored floor. Their change of pace quickened as the text traveled onto the walls, filling every surface it could touch.

Cracks began to tear the walls as the two flung themselves into the next room, gunshots filling the air.

The groom had grieved too long.

Their pace did not slow as the next room was filled with more of the statues, unbroken this time, and the "The Lady In Red", accompanied by her fellow ladies in blue, yellow, and green. They were all moving, and wouldn't be stopped any time soon.

As the two ran from their opponents, one of the Ladies In Blue had caught Garry by his coat, dragging him back as he screeched abnormally high pitched for a man. Ib had no time to snicker, she would have to save that for later, as she pulled Garry away with greater force. She wasn't ready to lose him to the gallery again.

They managed to finally reach the exit, a small gray building structure. Ib ran in first as Garry slammed the door, silencing the growls and taunts of the monsters he had come to known.

Garry, chest heaving placed his hands on his knees, laughing breathlessly.

"We...We really showed them, didn't we?"

Ib nodded as she was just barely ahead, her vision began to become clouded over by a black border, everything spinning.

He walked over to her, even though he had been lacking in the skill of human interaction, Garry could tell something was wrong, yet he kept that notion to himself.

Instead, he carefully crouched down to follow her position, his arm slung over her back.

"I...I never did catch your name, did I? It's...embarrassing...how you know mine but I...don't know yours." He said, pausing to inhale.

She began to feel herself drift off, similar to falling asleep, yet she couldn't control it.

"Ib...my name is Ib."

Before he could move, she fell into him, unconscious and exhausted.

It was definitely like falling asleep, unconsciousness, it lingered until it hit you all at once.

As Garry yelled her name, picking her up in his arms as he could hear the door being attempted to open he felt a wave of déjà vu hit him with a hint of nausea.

Who was this girl, and why did he feel like this wasn't the first time this had happened?


	5. Chapter 5

A world of caved in ceilings and charred evergreen wallpaper was seen through waking crimson orbs. Her mind wandered, where was she and how did she get there? This certainly wasn't anywhere she had been previously, she would've definitely remembered.

"Oh, hey, you're awake!"

Oh right, now she remembered.

Garry sat just beside her, hair tousled more than usual, large and noticeable dark circles under his eyes.

"You didn't sleep...did you?" She asked worryingly. It appeared that he hadn't slept in ages, as if he had never experienced a wink of sleep.

"I was afraid 'they' might find us, so I kept watch. It's nothing to worry yourself about, I-I don't sleep much anyways."

"Still, Garry. This place is tiring. I can't have you falling asleep on me while getting chased, now can I?" Ib said, making the sarcastic comment with a faint smile gracing her lips. It was hardly noticeable, but still brightened up the scene.

"I suppose not. That would be interesting, now wouldn't it? We'd be getting chased by one of the statues and I'd be out cold, just like that!" He said, snapping his fingers.

The two of them laughed at the image. It was a strange, unfamiliar action, yet she couldn't help but take part in it.

As the conversation grew to a close, Ib couldn't help but notice a certain infamous coat missing from Garry's appearance. She also couldn't help but feel a certain weight around her shoulders.

"You looked cold, before. Shivering, actually." Garry said, noticing how she examined the oversized piece of fabric.

It carried his aroma, the faint smell of oil paints and lemon candies, concocted with his own personal smell that could only be defined as him alone.

She had missed it.

Rising to her feet, tugging down her skirt as she did, Ib shrugged the coat off of her shoulders, folding it neatly before returning it to its owner. He took it in slender, gentle hands, slinging it over his shoulders, placing his lanky arms through the holes. He looked back to her, the girl's attention purposely avoiding him, a faint dusting of pink across her cheeks. He didn't make note of it, not wanting to embarrass her.

"I would have a look around first, but...I don't think there's much here." Garry said, meaning the toppled bookshelves with books burnt so badly they might as well be rubbish.

"Agreed." Ib said, brushing off dust from her clothes and stepping over the toppled and empty vase to meet at the man's side.

Before she could manage to place her hand on the doorknob to once again embark on their journey, she was stopped with the question she wasn't sure she was was ready to answer.

"I-Ib?" Garry said, testing out the girl's name on his tongue, "What exactly happened to me, or rather, us, the first time?"

She swallows harshly, exhaling before turning around to meet his gaze, resting her back on the door.

"It's...It's a rather long story."

"I'm all ears."

She sighed, he hadn't changed that much.

"I was nine years old when it happened. My parent's were devoted fans of Guertana's works, so they couldn't pass up the opportunity to see them in person, and so they took me along to this gallery. Things began to become strange fast, however, everyone disappearing and paintings making sound. Before I knew it, I stepped into the Abyss Of The Deep painting, and I ended up here. It was in better shape then, though. After I was sure that I was going to die in there, I managed to find you, Garry. After that, we became close, we swore to make it out together. Also, we had these roses, like the one I showed you. However, these resembled our life, the more petals we lost, the more we were injured ourselves. After a while, we met with a girl named Mary, who we thought was another young girl like me at the time, but turned out to be another one of Guertana's paintings who wanted to escape. You found out about her, and before she tried to kill me, you stopped her. Though soon she found us again, and we were pushed into a part of the gallery called "The Toy Box". I lost my rose, only to find out that she had it. You...You gave her your rose in exchange, in exchange for your life. And after that...she killed you. I killed her afterwards, burning her painting. I managed to escape after that, and once I got back to the gallery, you were a painting there, the "Forgotten Portrait."

Tears escaped underneath her closed eyelids, while the man embraced her. He didn't have much body heat, his touch rather chilling, yet it was all the affection he could muster.

Ib spoke between choked gasps, "I swore you were dead, that she killed you. Garry...Garry I tried to come back for you for seven years. I tried to save you, please know that. I'm so sorry, god I can't tell you how sorry I am."

He rested his head on hers, running nimble fingers through dark russet hair in hopes of calming Ib's nerves.

However, his mind was still swarming with the story, or rather, the reality he was now faced with. God, how could he have forgotten.

"It's alright, don't blame yourself, you had no other choice." he said, "I should be the one apologizing. For putting you through all of this for years."

Ib looked up, eyes watery as she blinked away oncoming waterworks.

"Come on, now. Crying over the past never helps anyone, especially not us. Not right now." Garry said, smiling faintly in a comforting manner.

She nodded, wiping away tears with her forearm. "You're right, we need to focus on getting out of here."

Ib opened the door, uninterrupted this time. As the duo padded down the hall, the walls turned violet. However, it was as if an entirely new section of the gallery had been opened.

The floors were freshly varnished, polished to where they were nearly reflective. The walls were no longer burnt, the aroma of fresh paint wafting in the atmosphere. Not even a speck of dust lay on the decorative mirrors scattered about the walls.

"You think they're expecting someone?" Ib asked, scoffing.

"Expecting us, rather." Garry said as he grimaced.

Ib began to feel uneasy, remembering that the room they were currently in was where they first acquired Mary to their traveling posse. Garry, on the other hand was admiring a rather large and impressive milk puzzle on display.

"Ah. Say, Ib? Have you any idea what milk puzzles are?"

Of course she knew, after the gallery she had herself picked up on the hobby of solving the rather bland puzzles. Yet she acted oblivious, as she felt that he would enjoy inquiring her on something she didn't know about the gallery already.

"Milk puzzles are like normal puzzles, the pieces and all, yet they have no color so they don't make a picture. Bland, I know, I'd much rather have a picture in the end. While I was locked in that room, this was one of the few things I had to occupy myself with besides looking at the gallery through windows, so I've become quite fond of them."

She nodded in agreement and understanding.

"Hey, Ib. What's that behind you?"

Turning around quickly, she noticed foot prints on the violet floors, leading towards a single room.

"Perhaps that's the way ou-"

"No!"

Garry stood in shock as Ib became anxious, body practically writhing in anxiety.

"W-What's the matter?"

"The first times we came through here, that was where we first met Mary. I know I killed her but...who knows if that's what happened. I mean...look what happened with you."

Garry nodded, yet still retorted. "Ib, there's no other way out. I know you're scared of...Mary...but we have no other choice."

"There has to be another way! T-That can't be it!"

"Ib, It's alright," he placed a hand on her shoulder, "I'll make sure nothing will happen to us, I won't let what happened the first time happen again. I promise."

Garry swiftly made his way past her, coat billowing behind him. Turning the doorknob, Ib at his side, they both braced themselves for what could be beyond the door.

Nothing. Nothing but a dark, indigo hallway.

"See, nothing to be afraid of!" Garry said, his shoulders relaxing slowly.

"Y-Yeah." Ib said, shaking.

As they made their way down the hall, Ib refurbishing her rose in the full vase, their eyes widened in fear as they reached a set of stairs.

At the top of the staircase lay a doll, torn apart, the one Garry had brutally damaged before in the room. Above it's head, letters wrote in a strange substance that could've been blood or red paint, read the troubling words no one ever wanted to here.

"BEHIND YOU!"

The two were frozen, not able to follow the text's instructions. They didn't have to, as a voice broke the silence.

"I had a feeling you'd finally come back, Ib."


	6. Chapter 6

It was amazing she was able to use her vocal chords at that moment, as nothing else dared to move. Her entire body was on edge by the voice. It was cheery, light hearted, and nearly demonic. A voice of that obscure description was unforgettable.

"It seems you were right, M-Mary." Ib said, shaking as she gritted her teeth.

The two finally turned their bodies towards the girl as her footsteps grew louder, presence growing colder.

She hadn't changed much at all, the same emerald dress with white lace trimming, golden tresses of hair and sky blue irises. Her dress was a bit burnt at the edges, dirtied with soot and ash. Her cheek as well had a single streak of ebony ash, just underneath her eyes that flamed in hatred. Mary hadn't changed in height either, still the same height as when she was only nine years old, or so it had seemed at the time.

"You came back for him...he's all you ever cared about, right?" Mary said, arms behind her back, fingers twiddling with something out of Ib's view.

She was certain what it was.

"M-Mary."

"YOU LEFT ME THERE TO DIE!" She pulled a familiar palette knife out from behind her, thrashing it at her former companion. Ib could see the hurt in her eyes as she dodged her blows.

She had suddenly disappeared, as if she had never existed. As the pair were in temporary distraught, they heard the young girl's voice behind them, screaming.

"YOU SAID WE WOULD ESCAPE TOGETHER! I TRUSTED YOU!"

Ib turned around to see Mary, now eye level, as if she had aged seven years in a split second. The left side of her face was charred black, dappled with patches of red irritated skin, a thick strand of blonde hair covering her eye, if one was even left in the socket.

Her arms were raised above her, palette knife clutched in her fists, ready to strike. Before she could bring the blade down, Garry had flung himself at the girl, knocking her and the weapon to the indigo hardwood floors.

In her hysteria, Mary aimlessly began to flail underneath the man, trying to pry him off of her.

"Why didn't you just stay dead!? If only father wouldn't have brought you back! GOD, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO RUIN EVERYTHING!?" Mary said, choking on air, crystalline tears racing down her pale cheeks.

Garry waited until she calmed down, arms hanging at her sides in exhaustion, before removing his form from shielding her blows. Mary shoved him away with weak force, shaking as she rose to her feet.

"Mary, you...you survived." Ib said, surprisingly not as shocked as she should've been.

"Hoping for something else?" She said, arms crossed in front of her, chest still riding from her previous assault.

The air hung silent for what seemed like hours, long and eerie, before Garry spoke the question lingering through both his and Ib's minds.

"M-Mary, might I ask who your father is?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'd like to thank the man who 'brought me back', if that's not asking too much?" Garry said, his annoyance with the girl evident in his tone.

Mary rolled her eyes, scoffing before answering the man's pleading in obvious distaste.

"Guertana, the creator of this place, is my father. He created everyone here, even a part of you now, Garry."

"W-What?" He asked, cerulean eyes widening.

"I think he'd rather answer that himself." She said scowling, walking past both Garry and Ib to where the doll sat, a mess of loose stitches and cotton stuffing.

She placed the the doll in her arms carefully, cooing to it under her breath, inaudible.

"Hurt him again, and you're dead. And I'll make sure it'll stay that way."

"M-Mary, please don-"

"Ib." She said, voice more hushed and gentler than how she had first addressed the girl.

Mary turned on her heels, a new path opening in the wall, the fresh plaster crumbling away in chunks.

"We're wasting time. Come on, I wasn't sent here to kill you two, y'know."

"Sure seems like it." Garry muttered to the girl at his side, smirking.

Mary, as if on cue, turned to glare at the man, yet kept on walking.

As the trio stepped past the threshold, it was suddenly closed up, the wall now back to its previous form. Ib was not startled, however, she was long past being surprised by anything in the gallery.

"Mary, where are we going?" Ib asked, voice timid.

"My father wants to see you. To see you both."

They maneuvered their way through the dim, violet light, through countless winding hallways. It seemed like ages, and throughout the time, Ib could only imagine what fate lay ahead. They would be meeting with the creator of the gallery, after all. She could only hope for Guertana to spare them for any punishment they may receive.

Or maybe an explanation could be what she sought.

After what seemed like endless hours, Ib's feet now beginning to ache with each step, they managed to finally reach their decision.

Ib and Garry moved closer to each other, fingers intertwining as Mary began to fumble with the door.

"Are you ready?" Garry whispered.

"Not at all." Ib replied in all honesty. Why lie now?

Mary finally unlocked the door, and through the barely lit corridor could she that Mary had returned to her younger form. Hopefully that would be explained, as well.

As the door opened, light was shed through the now revealed room.

The aroma of acrylics and roses wafted in the atmosphere, the entire room large with towering ceilings, long and flowing silk curtains billowing in the wind that escaped through open windows, pitch black skies beyond the glass. Scattered about the room were canvases of familiar gallery artwork, ceramic vases of yellow, blue, and red roses, and even the occasional statue that walked by, unfinished or a work in progress.

Ib could feel her legs go weak as Mary raced in front of her.

"Father!"


End file.
